


March 1485 and September 2012

by hiraethy



Category: Historical RPF, Richard III - Shakespeare, The White Queen (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 16:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21200825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiraethy/pseuds/hiraethy
Summary: Anne and Richard are reunited after centuries.





	March 1485 and September 2012

**Author's Note:**

> This is old and brief, but I found it and had to post it.

**March 1485**

A father shouldn’t bury his son.

This father did, not long ago.

A king has to bury many.

This time it’s his love.

He’s knelt at her bedside since winter.

She lies in rich fabrics and golden curtains.

They're not enough to keep her from the night.

It’s the first hours of spring and she’s dying.

He kisses her white hand.

When they were kids he pretended to kiss her awake from her cursed slumber.

He whispers into her knuckles. “Don’t fade from me.”

She rubs her thumb on the back of his hand.

In battle he’ll think on her.

* * *

**September 2012**

When they find what they were looking for on the first try, everyone is speechless.

A young archeologist kneels to check on a workmate who just fell on her knees. He sees tears flowing down her cheeks. She trembles. “Are you feeling well?” He doesn’t know what to do.

He hears her murmuring something eerie, something frightening and he doesn’t know what to do.

The crisis passes. She raises on her feet and leaves the site. The morning after, she leaves the project. The man, her friend, still has shivers down his spine when he thinks about the look in her eyes on that day and the things she muttered under her breath:

“Not like this.

Not like this.

I never thought I would get to see your bones.

You had held mine.

I guess it’s my turn now.

I left you too soon.

I don’t even know you anymore.

I don’t remember your eyes or your face or your voice.

Then why must I see and hold your bones, tell me.

I’m sorry I left you alone.

I’m so sorry.

Why must you come back to me like this?

Don’t hate me.

I don’t want this.”


End file.
